Long Term
by Quivering Quills
Summary: Canon-compliant character drama wherein Hermione and Draco have a 15 year long affair.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Hello, readers! This is a story that I've had in the works for a few months and I figured I have a fair amount of content already written so I might as well upload it for some feedback. This story is canon and epilogue compliant. Hermione/Draco is my het OTP, so this story has been brewing in my head for years. There's not quite Ron-bashing but suffice it to say he's my least favorite character and I hate the idea of Hermione being with him. Please read and review, flames or otherwise!

Chapter One

Hermione took a long drag on her cigarette; the smoke plumed out in front of her as she exhaled slowly. Her hand shook slightly as she flicked off the ash into the tray. Every time the inn door swung open she looked up nervously. She absent-mindedly snubbed out the cigarette and took a swig of wine before immediately pulling another cigarette from her bag. She lit it, took a few short puffs and then crushed it out as well. She sat up, fidgeting anxiously when Draco swept in and sat stiffly across from her.

"Order already?" he asked uninterestedly, picking up the menu.

"I'm not hungry." she replied shortly, picking up her glass.

"You should eat." He glanced at her over the menu.

She stared at him, her eyes hard.

"I said I'm not hungry."

One annoyed eyebrow cocked as he returned to the menu.

"What was so important that I had to meet you here? You know Astoria is home right now."

Hermione's brow creased and she reached into her bag for her cigarette case. The waiter approached the table and Hermione purposefully continued sifting through her bag as Draco ordered. The waiter turned to Hermione.

"And you, ma'am—"

"Nothing." she snapped.

Hermione and Draco stared coolly at each other for a moment after he left.

"Well?" Draco pressed impatiently.

Hermione lit a cigarette and took a long, deep drag.

"I'm pregnant."

A twinge of bitter satisfaction flickered through her as Draco flinched in surprise. _That threw you off, didn't it, you smarmy bastard?_, she thought barely suppressing a smirk.

"No."

"Yes."

"Whose."

"Does it really matter?"

Draco leaned forward slightly, eyes wide.

"Yes, it bloody well matters. You tell me right now if it's mine or that ill-bred husband of yours'—"

"Oh, Draco, please!" she whispered harshly, rolling her eyes, "In all the years we've been together have you ever seen me _not_ take birth control after sex?"

Draco's brow softened and he sat back, sighing.

"What happened?"

Hermione leaned forward, bracing her head with her hands, elbows against the table. She shook her head slightly, eyes squeezed shut as if she had an intense headache.

"Ron came home late one night. Wanted sex. I'd been drinking—a bit too much— I figured what the hell. Afterward, I was just so drowsy from the wine that I fell right asleep before taking the potion," she sighed heavily, "I knew I should have gotten fixed after Hugo was born."

Draco remained silent for a long moment.

"What did he say?"

"He doesn't know. He's not going to know. I have an appointment tomorrow," she looked up at him, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, "With my Muggle doctor."

"Wait," Draco looked bemused," if you're not going to keep it, why tell me? Why drag me out here?"

Hermione glared at him for a moment before lowering her head.

"Draco, come on," she looked back up, her eyes soft and pleading, "I can't just keep this to myself, it's too much. I have to talk about it with someone. Who else is there? Harry? Ginny?" she perked her voice up and widened her eyes "'Oh, yeah, I got accidentally knocked up _again_ and I'm planning on aborting your unborn niece or nephew—I know how comfortable your whole family is with that kind of thing!—because I just can't stand your brother and the thought of bearing him another child just makes me want to _kill myself_! So, how are the kids?' Yeah, that'll go real well, I'm sure."

Draco smiled, shaking his head. The tension between them seemed to dissipate slightly.

"Draco, you're…the person I'm closest with. I tell you everything. All the things I can't tell other people. And I know it's the same for you too."

"All right, all right. I get it; you're practically in love with me. And I guess the feeling's mutual."

He smirked at her as she laughed softly.

"I know it's foolish of me to owl while Astoria's home…"

"It's all right. It's not like we were having a tender matrimonial moment or anything." He muttered.

"What did you tell her?"

"Same thing as always-"

"Emergency business." They said in unison. Hermione smiled, gently biting her bottom lip.

"How long did you tell her?"

"At least a day and a half."

Hermione stood and walked towards the back stairwell that led to the rooms upstairs. As she disappeared up the steps, Draco called the waiter over and instructed that his meal and a chilled bottle of wine be delivered to room 12 before following Hermione's path.

The plate sat half eaten on the tray near the door, the bottle a third empty next to the bed. Hermione rested her head against Draco's shoulder, her hair loosed from its tight chignon and falling disarrayed around her face. Draco tilted his head back against the wooden headboard, eyes closed, slowing rotating the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. Sighing gently, Hermione stood, stretching. Draco opened his eyes, reaching out to run his hand down her bare back. She grabbed her cigarette case off the nightstand before walking over to the tray, scooping a few bites of the now cold chicken marsala into her mouth.

"You should've ordered something."

Hermione shot him a sneer before crossing over to the balcony door. The curtains were slightly parted and the door stood somewhat ajar. Taking out a cigarette, she lit it and inhaled deeply.

"When are you going to quit," Draco muttered, snaking up behind her, taking the cigarette and taking a drag, "It's a filthy habit, smoking."

Hermione smiled and let her head fall back against his chest. A haze of smoke surrounded them for a moment before they returned to the bed. Hermione emptied the bottle of wine into their glasses.

"So, how's Scorpius doing?" she asked, burrowing into the cool sheets and holding her glass close.

"He's fine, I suppose. It's hard to know. He's at that age where he doesn't really like talking to me or his mother." Draco sighed, looking at down into his wine glass, "There's a lot of tension in the house, what with Astoria and I fighting all the time. I always thought my own home would be different than the house my father kept; I never wanted my kids to dread coming home from school. I wanted to be a better father than that."

"You are, Draco," Hermione slid her arm around his waist, "Scorpius is 15-years-old: kids that age are moody monsters, even when they have the happiest of homes. I got lucky with Rose; she and I are very close so she didn't turn on me. Ron on the other hand; she does everything she can to avoid him and they fight like animals when she's home. Hugo though, he's a loner. He was never very close to me or Ron and he likes to be by himself. But still—he's at the age where you think that liking to be alone makes you deep and he thinks he's the first 14-year-old to discover pot. He smokes it all day when he's home. But he's a good kid overall and I'm okay with having a ready-made stash when I need it."

"Must be nice," Draco smiled softly, rubbing his eye, "Do you think there's something going on between Scorpius and Rose?"

"I'm not sure. They're definitely really close but if there was anything going on, I don't think Rose would tell me. She trusts me but she's grown up hearing about how awful the Malfoys are from her father so it's been very difficult for her to deal with becoming so close with Scorpius. If there is anything more than friendship going on, I doubt she'd tell anyone in the family for fear of it getting back to Ron or one of her more belligerent cousins. Does Scorpius talk about her much?"

"When he _does _talk, she's all he talks about: Rose said this, Rose and I did this, Rose answered this question in class, Rose and James got into a fight, on and on. It's a bit funny how my life now is so closely tied to Weasleys and Potters through my kid."

"And the fact that you're fucking Ron Weasley's wife." Hermione teased, nuzzling her face against his neck.

"Yes, well, that started when you were still a Granger."

"Ah, yes. Back when I was guilt-ridden and repressed; terrified of anything that gave me pleasure and convinced that Ron was my 'soul-mate'. Thank God you fucked some sense into me."

AN: Please leave some feedback! Hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So while chapter one was mostly expository set up, chapter two goes back to give us the real story. After this, most of chapter three is done but it might take me a few days to get finished up and posted. Hope you enjoy

Chapter Two

"Ron, darling, really, it's not that big a deal," Hermione insisted, taking the kettle off the burner, "We work in the same department now but we hardly ever cross paths."

"I still don't like it," Ron said stubbornly, polishing off his plate of sausage and potatoes, "Malfoy's always been a prat. What if he tries something?"

"Ronald, please," Hermione chastised gently as she sat and poured them both tea, "we all graduated from Hogwarts over 5 years ago. We're adults now. And even if he _is _a prat, it's nothing that I can't handle."

"Granger, have you finished editing that paper from Polissi?"

Hermione looked up from her paperwork to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the jamb of her open office door.

"Yes, do you need it?"

"I have to drop it off with the supervisor."

Hermione opened the drawer of her desk, pulling out the desired stack of parchment. She stood and held the packet out to him. Draco took it from her slowly, gazing evenly into her face. She began to feel self-conscious under his gaze and felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, preparing her to retaliate against whatever he threw at her. Even as heat rose to her face, she set her jaw and kept her face calm and neutral, waiting for his next move.

"How've you been, Hermione?" he said, finally looking away.

She faltered for a moment, closing her eyes as the unneeded adrenaline coursed through her. If she'd kept her eyes open, she'd have seen his eyes travel from her face down the rest of her body. When she looked up however, his eyes were back on her face.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling softly, "And you?"

"Lovely, just lovely," he smirked gently, "Are you going on lunch soon? We should catch up—my treat."

Hermione was so taken aback by the offer that she almost blurted out yes from sheer shock. She stopped herself and really thought about what he had said. Instantly, Ron's face blossomed in her mind, red-faced and furious.

"Oh…no, I'm going home to have lunch with Ron today," she said, "But thank you, it's very generous."

"Maybe some other time,"

She watched as he smirked again before walking down the hall towards the supervisor's office. Hermione turned back to her desk and sat, trying to get her mind back on her paperwork. Her hands trembled slightly and her heart was still racing from the adrenaline. _I think I'll keep that little encounter with Malfoy to myself_, she thought, _there's no reason to get Ron all upset over nothing. _

Over the next few weeks, Draco stopped by Hermione's office at least once a day and offered to take her to lunch each time. Hermione found it harder and harder to keep declining; the more she chatted with Draco the more time she wanted to spend with him. Each morning she had the same argument with herself:

_It's just lunch! There's nothing wrong with going to lunch with a coworker. _

_The coworker is Draco Malfoy. Ron would be furious._

_Ron is so irrational, he's always been way too jealous for no reason. He doesn't have to know about it._

_You shouldn't be keeping secrets from your fiancé! _

Every morning Hermione came up with half-excuses for why she _might_ not make it home for lunch: a meeting might run over, she might have to work some over time, she might be going to lunch with Celia and Angelina, on and on they went. But she never found the courage to actually use any of them and she felt like a child being deprived a delicious candy: she was frustrated with Ron for having such a jealous disposition and annoyed with herself for letting him stop her from doing something she wanted to do.

She was startled out of her thoughts at a loud rapping on her office door. Looking up at the small glass window, she saw the blond top of Draco's head. She stood, determined to open the door and say "Yes, let's go to lunch!" Throwing the door open, she almost began to speak before she saw Draco hold up a large, white plastic bag.

"Hungry?" he smirked at her enlarged, surprised eyes; after a moment, she smiled.

"Starving," she said, pulling open the door to allow him entrance.

Closing the door most of the way, Hermione turned to face the office; with a few waves of her wand she conjured a second chair and cleared the desk of all its paperwork. As Draco withdrew the boxes of food from the bag, Hermione leaned over the desk, scrawling on a piece of scrap parchment.

_Dear Ron,_

_ That meeting I mentioned did run over today so I'm just going to go for takeout. See you this evening; I'll make a stir fry out of last night's left overs!_

_Love, _

_Hermione_

Biting her lip as she glanced over the lie, she crossed the room to where her small delivery owl sat perched on his stand. Draco watched intently as she attached the note to his talon and instructed him to go to she and Ron's shared flat. When she turned to the desk, he raised an eyebrow.

"Did I miss some big meeting today?" he asked, opening his food.

"Ha, well, no," she said, trying to hide the nervous quiver in her voice; she wasn't sure if the extended private time with Draco Malfoy or the blatant lie she had just sent careening into her home that made her more anxious, "it's just that if I told Ron I was having lunch with you, he'd probably be a little upset."

Draco nodded slowly, his eyes heavy-lidded as he continued to gaze at her. To her relief he turned to his food.

"Please, eat, Hermione,"

Turning to her own food, she realized that the combined efforts of having lunch with Draco _and_ telling the first serious lie in her relationship had left her feeling ravenous.

"Smells delicious, what is it?" she asked, opening the box in front of her.

"Pad Thai, do you like it?"

"I've never had it!"

Hermione's nerves tingled again as he leaned close to her, describing the Thai stir fry and instructing her to squeeze the lime over the noodles. They talked about Asian cuisine for quite a while and Hermione was surprised when the conversation eased into more personal territory.

"So, Weasley's never really gotten over the jealousy thing, huh?" Draco asked, scooping a heap of food into his mouth.

"Unfortunately," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "He was pretty annoyed when I told him you started working here. I'm still holding out hope that he'll grow out of it—it can be very overbearing at times."

"Yeah, I mean, being upset that a chap—a chap that you're fiancée didn't even like in school—is working in the same place as her, that's a bit crazy."

"That's true," she agreed, spooning up a piece of chicken before looking at Draco through her eyelashes, "but what about that chap asking said fiancée to lunch every day?"

Draco smirked mischievously, chewing the last of his food. She'd become accustomed to that smile; it conveyed control and confidence, teetering on the precipice of cocky but not condescending or annoying. With that easy, self-assured half-smile he could make her feel at ease and on the same level or awkward and at the mercy of his judgment.

"That's just friendliness, is all," he said in a hushed voice, leaning forward, very close to her face, "A white flag of sorts. No hard feelings between old enemies and all that. And besides, he doesn't know about those visits, does he."

"No," she admitted, unable to look away from him.

"Well, then. No harm, no foul."

Hermione suppressed a shiver as she fully realized that she was alone in a very small room with Draco Malfoy with the door mostly closed, and he was leaning very, very close to her, and speaking in such a low, smooth voice, soothing and almost intimate…

Hermione jumped as her delivery bird shot back into the room and landed on the desk before them, satisfied with a mission completed. She grabbed the note clutched in his talon and looked at it: _Okay, darling. See you tonight. Love you. ~Ron _

Blinking rapidly, she looked up to see Draco standing, throwing his trash into the plastic bag the food had come in. The moment of strange closeness was gone, evaporated like steam. Hermione stood as well, holding half a noodle out to the owl, who happily snapped it up and flew back to his place on the perch. Stuffing her trash into the bag as well, she walked with him to the door and pulled it open.

"This was…nice." She said, smiling.

"We'll have to do it again sometime," he said, nodding, "there's a nice little sandwich bistro down the street."

"My treat next time," she said firmly.

He smiled softly as she closed the door; turning she leaned heavily against the door, her breath abnormally labored. _This is a problem…_

Later that night, Hermione stared absent-mindedly into the fireplace. Dinner had been served, the dishes cleaned and Ron had wandered sleepily off to bed some 20 minutes before, but Hermione sat up in her arm chair, the fire reflected in her glazed eyes, a half empty wine glass clutched in her hand. _What am I doing? _She thought, _what in the world am I doing having lunch with another man, Draco Malfoy at that. This wasn't just innocent lunch with a coworker. _The nervousness, the flutters in her stomach, the shyness and adrenaline rush—she hadn't felt this way since she was 14-years-old. She smiled gently at that thought. _I haven't felt like this since I first started developing feelings for Ron. _

But this was more dangerous than some school yard crush: she was in a seriously committed relationship with someone else. They had a life together, a home, they were planning a future together. _Now is not the time to have a crush on someone else, especially Draco Malfoy, _she thought, taking a swig of her wine. It'll pass, she decided. It's just the thrill of it; the history between them charged their every interaction. And she couldn't deny that there may be some unresolved sexual tension between them, residual feelings of merged animosity and attraction from their youth.

_It'll pass_, she told herself, over and over, like a mantra, as she drained her wine glass.

AN: And there we have it! Please leave any comments, flames, feedback, or what have you. :)


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Chapter three, yay! This is pretty much the last of the already-written content I have so after this, chapters will start to slow down. I'm at a bit of a standstill right now but hopefully over the coming weeks I'll figure out where to go from here. Ideas and criticism welcome!

Chapter Three

"So tell me about you and Weasley," Draco said, popping a few crisps in his mouth.

Hermione looked up at him from across the table; they sat in the little sandwich bistro he'd mentioned a few weeks ago at a small table next to a wall-sized, pane-glass window. The sky was steel gray and a lazy drizzle fell, slicking the streets outside. Hermione took a bite of her sandwich, chewing with her hand in front of her mouth as she thought about what Draco had just said.

"Well," she said thickly before swallowing, "what do you want to know, Draco?"

"I don't know. Just how do you two _work?_"

Hermione's brow creased and she laughed shortly.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on!" he leaned forward onto the table, eyes wide, a smile playing at his lips, "you two are like total opposites, I just don't understand how you don't tear each other apart."

"I mean, you learn to compromise," she said, shrugging as she grabbed her drink, sipping iced tea through a straw, "we care about each other, that's what matters."

"Is that what really matters, though? More than having similar interests? Or _not_ being jealous or possessive?"

Hermione looked down at her plate, chewing on her lip. This kind of questioning made her feel uncomfortable and self-conscious so she attempted to change the subject.

"Draco, you always ask me about my relationship, but what about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

Draco sat back, gazing at the rain outside as he tore off a piece of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

"Sort of, I guess," he said, looking back to Hermione and giving her a lopsided smile, "Do you remember the Greengrass sisters?"

"Hmm, no,"

"I didn't think you would, they were in Slytherin. Astoria Greengrass was in the year below us; I've gone out with her a few times in the past few weeks."

"What's she like?" Hermione pressed, eager to keep the conversation away from her own relationship.

"She's okay, I suppose. Interested in climbing the social ladder, which is what got her interested in me to begin with. But despite that, I think she might be a decent person. My parents are putting a lot of pressure on me to keep seeing her; they're interested in combining the Greengrass and Malfoy names."

"What is this, an arranged marriage?" she joked, putting her straw back in her mouth.

"Practically. A lot of pureblood marriages happen like this. It's how my parents ended up together."

Hermione leaned forward slightly, lowering her head to look at him through her lashes.

"Hmm…how do you..I don't know, how does that make you feel?"

"I don't really know. It's always been hard to outright deny my parents when they want something. I mean, it's gotten easier over time and now that I'm an adult I _know_ that I can do whatever I please but it's difficult knowing that they'll be judging, and shaming and all that. And I guess when it comes to like…the woman I'll have children with I don't want my kids to get a bunch of shit from their grandparents. _My _grandfather Abraxas was such a harsh…just totally unyielding, unloving bastard when he was alive and I wouldn't want any kid of mine to go through that with my dad. Because he has the potential to be that bastard."

There was a brief silence between them. Draco sighed and sat back again, tossing the crust of his sandwich onto his plate.

"I'm really sorry, Draco. That must be hard, living with that kind of pressure. I mean, my parents are dentists, haha," he smiled at her laughter, "the only thing they want out of my future kids is good teeth."

They both laughed and Hermione lowered her eyes. _It's not an affair, it's not an affair, it's not an affair. _She and Draco had been going to lunch 3-4 times a week since their first Pad Thai lunch. When Ron complained about how rarely she came home in the middle of the day now, she blamed the "overtime hours" on a recent promotion. Lying made her feel strange and ashamed and kept her up at night but when she sat across from Draco, eating and talking and laughing, all that disappeared. She'd thought it would pass, that once she got used to being around Draco the flirting and attraction would die down, but it didn't; quite the contrary, it only intensified it.

When she couldn't sleep, she would sit up in the study, gazing into the fire or out the window, kicking back glass after glass of wine, thinking. She couldn't think clearly while lying next to Ron—she felt guilty for even _having_ some of the thoughts while in the same room as him. But in the study she was free to obsess over her thoughts: how much time she and Draco were spending together; how many times he stopped by her office a day; how the flirting was so overt sometimes, it was like electricity between them; how insanely attracted she was to him; how sometimes their banter would get her so wound up, she wasn't sure if she could stop herself from doing something foolish...

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, shaking the thoughts away as the waiter brought them the check. Her hand shot out to grab it but not fast enough; Draco snatched it up and stood, his tongue sticking out. They'd quickly gotten tired of arguing over who would pay for lunch, so they decided to turn it into a game: whoever grabbed the check first paid.

"C'mon, love," he chimed as she gathered her purse, "back to the office for us."

A small rush coursed through Hermione; Draco was getting into the habit of using pet names when talking to her. Love; honey; darling; he'd even called her poppet in jest once or twice. Every time though it made her shiver and he'd asked her if it was okay. Heat had rushed to her face when she'd accidentally admitted that she liked it.

Upon paying the check, they walked outside, side by side beneath Draco's umbrella. _We don't look like a couple right now, we don't, we just look like friends_. But as they continued down the block, it was like Hermione was outside her own body watching them. She saw herself unconsciously link arms with him and lean in closer, watched them laughing often and easily, watched him place his arm gently around her hip as they stepped over a large puddle. _Jesus Christ, _she thought to herself, _I'm in trouble. _

"Ron!" Hermione called as she opened the front door; placing her umbrella in the stand, she braced herself against the wall as she slipped her shoes off. It was late and the rain had gotten heavier; she'd had to work overtime to make up for work she hadn't done over lunch. "Ron, darling, are you home?"

Yawning, Hermione walked through the sitting room, tossing her bag onto the coffee table. She stretched as she walked, pulling the tie out of her hair, a small, satisfied noise escaping her as she shook it out with her fingers. Thunder rolled through the sky outside and Hermione was unnerved by how quiet the house was. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, confused.

"Ron? Darling, what are you doing sitting in the dark?" she reached over to switch the light on.

Ron sat with his back to her, unmoving and silent. Rubbing the back of her neck, she walked around the table and sat across from him. His eyes were closed and his brow was creased intensely, his jaw set. Hermione stared at him for a moment, confused and a little annoyed with the act he was putting on. She was tired and her ankles were killing her; she'd been hoping that he'd have prepared a little food for her so she could eat right away before showering and hitting the sack.

"Ron," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, "Ron, what's wrong?"

His eyes snapped open and he glared at her, his nostrils flaring.

"Who were you with today when you went to lunch."

Hermione's heart leapt to her throat before plummeting like a chunk of ice to her stomach. She hoped her face didn't betray the fear and surprise coursing through her; all her fatigue was gone and her every nerve was on edge.

"What do you mean?" her voice quivered slightly and she cursed herself for her transparency.

"Don't. Don't treat me like I'm an idiot, Hermione." He stood, the chair he'd been sitting on tipping backwards; she jumped at the crash it made. "I went into Diagon Alley earlier this evening, and I saw Hannah and Neville. Hannah asked if you and I were still together."

Hermione's heart pounded like thunder in her chest and she was sure he could hear it as he paced violently back and forth; the anger in his voice was rising and fear splintered through her.

"Of course we are, I told her. Why? Why do you think she asked that, Hermione?" he stopped pacing and turned towards her, eyes ablaze.

"I…I don't kn-know, Ron, I—"

"DON'T LIE!"

Hermione jumped again as he pounded his fist against the table; the flatware clattered to the floor.

"Hannah said she saw you having lunch with someone today, looked very close with him. Who was it, Hermione. Tell me the fucking truth. Who were you with."

Hermione bit her lip, staring hard at the worn wood tabletop. He knew. He knew who she'd been with he just wanted to hear her say it.

"I was with Draco Malfoy."

The silence was terrible and suffocating; she needed him to react, say something, throw something, anything to break the horrible silence.

"Why?"

Hermione looked up; Ron was shaking with rage, his ears and cheeks flaming red, his fists clenched at his sides.

"It was just lunch, Ron." She said weakly, guilt searing her from the inside out.

"Why would you go to lunch with him?" he yelled, kicking the chair he'd knocked over.

"Ron, we're coworkers! It was nothing, all we did was have some sandwiches and talk about the past five years of our lives!"

"So you're telling me you've never gone to lunch with him before?"

"No," the lie came easily, "we hardly ever see each other."

Ron glared at her for a long moment, breathing deeply before he finally pulled the chair upright and sat across from her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, Ron, I knew you'd do this!" Hermione leaned back in her chair, rubbing her face, "I'm really exhausted. Can we please discuss all this tomorrow?"

"Yes,"

Hermione stood and tentatively leaned over to kiss him; he accepted, though stiffly and the kiss was awkward. Hermione left the kitchen, hurrying upstairs. She spent longer than usual in the shower, letting the warm water run down her face as she leaned against the tile wall. _What were you thinking, Hermione. You've known all along that this is wrong. You have to put a stop to it. _Hermione crawled under the covers of their bed a short time later; she tried to keep her eyes open long enough to say goodnight to Ron but it wasn't until long after she'd fallen asleep that he came to bed as well.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave reviews, comments, criticism, or flames!


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